“And yet it was the happiest of my whole life.”
“It is unfortunate, sir, that we should look back to an event with feelings so diametrically opposite.”
Maitland gave no heed to the irony of her tone, but went on: “If I was conscious of my own unworthiness, I had certain things in my favor which served to give me courage,—not the least of these was your brother's friendship.”
“Mark was always proud of being Mr. Maitland's friend,” said she, rather touched by this haughty man's humility.
“That friendship became very precious to me when I knew his sister. Indeed, from that hour I loved him as a brother.”
“Forgive me, sir, if I interrupt you. At the time to which you allude we would seem to have been living in a perfect realm of misconceptions. Surely it is not necessary to revive them; surely, now that we have awoke, we need not take up the clew of a dream to assist our reflections.”
“What may be the misconceptions you refer to?” said he, with a voice much shaken and agitated.
“One was, it would appear, that Mr. Maitland made me certain professions. Another, that he was—that he had—that is, that he held—I cannot say it, sir; and I beg you to spare me what a rash temper might possibly provoke me to utter.”
“Say all that you will; I loved you, Alice.”
“You will force me to leave you, sir, if you thus forget yourself.”